


The Good Temptation

by Sinclairchap



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Force Magic, Gen, Redemption, Suitless Vader, a lot of the initial stuff can just be put down to 'magic' ok, alternate interpretation of the Force, and plays favourites, don't think too hard about this, eventually anyway, magical healing, the force is a little bit more aware than usual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-04-19 08:55:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4740410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinclairchap/pseuds/Sinclairchap
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Force is out of Balance. Unfortunately, it's Chosen One has done little to fix this, and has even Turned to the Dark Side, furthering the Unbalance. The entities created directly by the Force, who guide those who use it, have decided he requires a nudge in the right direction. A rather large nudge.</p><p>But not everybody, or even the Chosen One himself, agrees with this plan.</p><p>(Previously titled "Path to Redemption")</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> First time properly writing something, first time writing Star Wars at all.  
> This is the result of wine and daydreaming, don't look to hard.

Darth Vader had been searching the Galaxy for months. Searching for the rebels, for Skywalker: the pilot who destroyed the Death Star.

 _His son_ , Vader reminded himself, the son he had been told before that he had lost, along with his beloved Padme. She had always told him she wanted a boy.

He checked hundreds of planets, sending probes to others, planets and places likely for rebel bases or of strategic value. And, much more rarely, places of importance and power in the Force. The Emperor had razed many, made more inaccessible, but some remained and it was possible that Skywalker, as a Force sensitive, would find his way to them, likely being called, pulled there like Vader himself had been on occasion prior to the... _Transformations_.

The Force was practically singing in the Wells these days.

Vader was at one such place now, a small moon with no official name, other than one that vaguely translated into 'Pleasant Garden' in the simple language of the uncivilized people on the planet below. It was a pleasant garden, if one cared for such things. Such as it was, he could only smell the sterilized air of his suit and the beautiful colour was wasted on him through the red lenses of his mask. The warmth of no sun could reach him through his armour.

What could reach him, however, was a strength in the Force so strong it was making him jittery, like a child with too much energy. Neither light nor dark, uninfluenced by the intentions of people, it simply _was_ , feeding non-sentient life and being fed in return by the plants and simple lifeforms of the moon around, a complete circle of life. It had been calling to him since they reached this system. It was the most peace Vader had felt in the Force in decades, if ever.

There was a sudden crunch of twigs and leaves being stepped on by heavy armoured boots, a brief twinge of life being cut short in the Force as flowers and small insects were crushed.

Vader felt almost offended on behalf of the Force as he watched graceless Stormtroopers stomp around. One trampled some more flowers and annoyance shot through him, disturbing the peace of the Force, at having to take troops with him to a place they did not belong, did not know how to _respect_. They knew nothing of the Force.  
But alas, it would not do to find the rebels, as he was supposed to, and have no troops to attack with, even if was just a small group of eight and himself. It would be enough.

"You two, scout east, near that lake. You two, scout west along the trees. Search for any signs of rebel activity. Report if you find anything suspicious." Barked Commander Dura, a reasonably competent and somewhat tolerable man. Rare thing in a Stormtrooper.  
"Lord Vader, any further orders?"

"You and the remaining troops follow me, I sense a strong presence in the Force to the north. It may be a Force user." Vader's voice came clear and loud in the peace of the idealistic garden moon and, to his ears, thrummed with power in the Force. He could practically hear two of the newer troopers roll their eyes at mention of the Force. Foolish non-believers, they would learn soon enough. "Rendezvous back here in an hour, comms on, stay alert." One never knew what surprises lay in places so rich in the Force. Strange things were no doubt waiting for them.

Vader began the trek north to the trees, where the Force felt strongest, more active. Perhaps there was someone here? Perhaps his son had heard the call, as he had? Or another rogue Force user?

They walked in almost silence, the only sound his own exaggerated breathing and the Stormtroopers' loud steps through the thick brush. He should have brought a stealth unit, if only because they were quieter. Every disturbance here felt like flecks of dirt being thrown in his face, or stirring mud through still water, so long had the Force lay peaceful. 

They walked deeper into the thick trees, and the longer he walked the more he ached like he needed to stretch, to run. They were getting close. But to what? This didn't feel like a person, Sith, Jedi or otherwise. Somewhat familiar, and yet completely new... Something he had felt before...

He snapped out of his thoughts when Commander Dura's voice came through, "Sir? Have you spotted something, my Lord?" Vader realized he had sped up, his long legs and quick stride making the troopers have to jog to keep up.

He couldn't slow down, didn't want to. Something was calling him, pulling him, he had to get there, danger be damned! The Force was singing to him, so loud he had no choice but to listen, _wanted_ to listen. It had been too long since Vader truly listened to the Force. 

They came to a clearing, so suddenly it startled Vader to a stop at the edge of the trees. The troopers arrived behind him, fanning out, checking for threats. But there were none. Vader knew that. The trees and flowers arranged in circles, like they had been planted and maintained. But no one had been here to do so in many years.

This was it. What remained of his bones felt like they were vibrating. He was where he was meant to be, where the Force had called him.

"Hello."

Vader spun around, cape flying out, lightsaber in hand. He had not felt anyone approach. Only now did he realize how foolish he had been, he'd been caught in a Force trap, pulling him in. Who knew what had drawn him here? And what for?

The troopers turned, raised their blasters, " _Mother of Mountains..._ " said one, he must have been from Alderaan, poor man. Confusion and alarm coloured his voice as they all stepped back, "What is that!?" 

It was a woman. Or felt like a woman, to Vader. It was humanoid, wearing robes made of an evening sky, and glowing faintly. It had no face save a single eye like a moon, and no feet touching the ground. 

Vader knew now why the presence felt familiar. That Force-cursed planet, Mortis. It felt similar to the Father and his children, only more... Natural. Less willful, wild. Oh, that had been so long ago... But he remembered. Remembered what had happened to _her_. His former Padawan.  
Oh no. Vader refused to go through that again. At least he knew what he was up against this time.  
"It's a Force being." He declared, taking another step back. The troops followed suit.

"What?" It was one of the non believing troopers. Well, he did say they would learn. "But I thought all that Force magic stuff was made up! To make the Emperor seem all mystical or something." Idiot sceptic. Vader would have to remember to show him how 'made up' the Force was.

The Force being was just watching them, waiting. It was patient. Vader was not sure if that was a good sign. 

A few more seconds, it looked at each of them, lingered on Vader. Of course, just his luck. Would it attack?

"Hello." It said again. "I would thank you to stop thinking of me as 'it', quite rude you know," _oh hell it reads minds,_ "My name is Fysa. Or rather, you can call me Fysa. There is no sound for my true name in your mortal tongues."

Wasn't fysa an ancient word for a sunset? He really should have paid more attention to his classes with the Jedi.

"Oh, yeah?" Said one of the more foolish troopers, with bravery born from a blaster in hand. "Why's that, then?" No one had put their weapons down. 'Fysa' did not seem troubled. The trooper next to the one who had spoken tightened his grip on his blaster. 

"What is the sound a sunset makes as it dips below the horizon?" Fysa said casually, cocking her head. 

"O-oh." The foolish trooper said awkwardly. He had obviously never dealt with a being so fundamentally greater than himself. 

"You need not be nervous, nor need you weapons. I will not harm you. I do not object to visitors to my Well, rare though they are. Unless you intend to harm it." Fysa said, voice lowering, becoming smooth and gentle. Vader felt calmer, almost content. That hadn't happened in decades. _Force manipulation in her voice_ , he thought. Of course. He would have to be wary, this being had power over will.

The foolish and the sceptical troopers put their weapons down first, then the Alderaanian, and finally Commander Dura. Vader relaxed his stance slightly, he could not attack her here, he could feel how great her power was. He held his lightsaber tight.

He'd have a better chance against the Emperor unless she was away from this Well.

"Thank you." Fysa floated lower to the ground. She was actually rather small, only her power made her seem large. Vader could see the dark skin of her face was covered in stars. The hem of her robes held the fading light of day. She was a sunset.

"You have travelled far, I thank you for heeding my call. It is not often one meets the Force's child," Vader shifted, this could _not_ end well for him, but he could not attack a Force being in their own Well, not alone, when he was so weak in the suit. "Although I suppose we are all in some way children of the Force." She laughed, and it sounded like clouds. Somehow. She turned to face Vader directly. 

"What does that mean?" The foolish trooper whispered to Dura from where the troopers had gathered, behind Fysa, across from Vader. Vader had backed up into one of the flower circles.

"No idea, rookie. I think she means Lord Vader, though."

"Why?"

"How should I know! Cause they mentioned the Force. That's Lord Vader's area. And she's looking at him. I think."

"Should- should we, I dunno, attack, or something? Is she gonna attack Lord Vader?" Asked the sceptical trooper. Maybe next time he should learn their names.

"I think," said Vader, and the troopers look to him, "that would be a terrible idea." Let it never be said he hadn't grown wiser with age.

Fysa laughed again, "Oh, I just want to help! Yes. It has been decided. The Force's child will be forgiven."

 _Why_ do weird things always happen to him?  
"Forgiven?" Vader asked lowly, voice full of suspicion. His mother had told him he had no father, and the Jedi's prophecy... She could mean him, as the 'Force's Child', which did not bode well. Damn prophecy, would he never escape it?

"Yes. Intentions mean more than action in the heart of the Force, and although you Turned, gave in to the Dark, your intentions were good. To save a loved one; your wife. You Turned Dark for love. This is forgiveable. And since you are here, where I can reach you, _help_ you..."

She raised her hand, covered in a sleeve of sky, and Vader knew he should have run, or fought, or not come here at all because now he was being pulled, his heart was in her grip although she was meters from him and he was being pulled from his suit, he was passing through it and _he couldn't breathe he was burning it was so bright his bones were twisting skin was bubbling, was this how the incompetent officers felt when he Force choked them-_

He fell to the ground, there was a thud behind him. The ground was soft. Covered in grass and little blue flowers. A bug crawled nearby, he could feel its tiny Force presence. Grass prickled the skin of his hand. He gasped and sucked in his first true breath in so many years and he could smell the grass and the flowers, they were so sweet.

He gagged. 

The smell was so strong it was sickening, the grass on his skin, his real, bare skin was too much with the air on his face and the sounds too loud so too much colour he was going to be _sick_ , he couldn't _breathe_. Where was his respirator? His mask? Anything?!

There was yelling. It was Commander Dura, he was on the ground near a large dark lump. "What did you _do_ to him! Who is that?! What happened to Lord Vader?!" There more yelling, general hysteria from the other troops. It was a miracle no one had shot anything yet.

Vader called on the Force, and it came so easy, it was like a slap in the face, almost knocking him down, calming his mind and body releasing his shock, calling on his anger, his fear. It was intense, like a sun within his mind, but he felt immediately better. He took slow breaths, letting his ever-present rage center him. He tried to push himself up, he couldn't. There was only empty space where his right forearm should be. Alarmed, he looked to his right, and tried to make sense of what he saw. 

_He wasn't in his suit._ Of course not, he was breathing faster. Couldn't do that in the suit. But then why did he have any limbs at all?

Then he noticed the hair in his eyes, hair from his head and was puzzled. He couldn't grow hair, the scars on his scalp, the _burns!_

The scars he couldn't feel pulling his skin taught. He wasn't in pain. He felt he may float away, the sensation of no pain was so dizzying. He was lightheaded. What was happening?

Fysa was trying to restore calm, using her low, calming voice and a healthy dose of the Force, "That man is Darth Vader. I restored him, gave back what was unjustly taken, body and mind." Dura was calming as she spoke, breathing deep. "He is forgiven. Almost."

That made Vader forgo breathing precious air to say, " _Almost?_ " his voice was quiet, raspy and unused, "What...?" what must he do to complete this surprise miracle? Why did he need to? His head was fuzzy, nothing was clear. 

"You have been forgiven for Turning. Your actions since then, however, still need repaying. You were tricked into Turning, but it is of your own choice to remain so. Balance must be found, for the Force to be at peace. Your actions helped knock the Force out of Balance." Fysa was in front of him, helping him up. He legs (Legs! He had legs!) were shaky, but the strange material of her sleeve was soothing on his sensitive skin.  
"Restore Balance and your spirit is clear."

"Wait, wait. So that guy is _Vader?_ Before he needed a life support suit?" the sceptical trooper asked, gesturing to Vader before throwing his arms in the air, "What the _hell_ is happening! _Magic is real!_ " He ripped off his helmet, against regulations, "This day has been too weird! We just witnessed a miracle! I think!" His hair was brown, his eyes brown and his skin tan. A forgettable face. He walking off a few meters, crouched, put his head in his hands and sighed, muttering. 

"You think it's been weird for you?" Vader rasped, the closest thing to an outright joke he'd made in years and the troop made a strangled noise, like a laugh. Vader was probably in shock, maybe a little oxygen high. And in a good mood. He felt dizzy, he looked with eyes beginning to remember colours other than red, to Dura and the dark lump. Oh, it was him. His suit was on the ground, empty save for his limbs. That was disconcerting.

Dura stepped closer, "Sir? That you?"

"Yes, Commander, I am Darth Vader."

"You sure?"

"Pretty sure."

"Ok. Sir?"

" _What?_ " Vader snapped, he was having trouble thinking as it was. He didn't need Force-blind morons blathering on to distract him.

"Permission to go hysterical, sir?"

"Denied. Have your crisis of faith later." _Damn it all/,/i >, he just wanted to stand here, on his own legs, and breathe, with his own lungs, and not think about repayment for his deeds for his spirit, how was he going to do that? Why should he? He just wanted to feel the sun. He would panic later.  
He could probably eat food now, even fresh fruit. He fought down a laugh. _

Definitely in shock.

"Uh," and the foolish trooper had to speak, of course, "um, where- where did the robe come from?"

Robe? Vader looked down. Oh, he was wearing a loose robe, smooth and dark. At least he wasn't naked. Apparently mystical, cosmic beings of the Force cared for his modesty. He looked closer. It was very dark blue at the top, but paler down and covered in clouds. Near the bottom, the orange sun. It was dawn. Like Fysa's was sunset. The right arm was much shorter, accommodating his missing arm. _The Force is not subtle in its symbolism_ , he thought, and nearly laughed again. Where his brand new eyes tricking him, or were the clouds moving? Was that a bird?

"And why do you only have one arm? If you don't mind me asking, sir?"

"Excellent question. Why is my arm still gone? You can heal what others could not, produce a robe from nowhere, but not make a prosthetic? Or heal the arm? Only three out of four limbs?" Vader's voice was getting tired, he didn't need to speak so loud in the suit, where he had a microphone.

"Those wounds are ones earned in honourable combat. They are not mine to heal."

"Of course."

"And I did not make the robe."

"Uh huh."

He was absolutely in shock. Possibly hallucinating, no way he was discussing magical moving sky robes with a being made of the evening sky while standing on his own, very amputated, legs with no shoes surrounded by Stormtroopers having nervous breakdowns. The Alderaanian troop had yet to move or speak. That was worrisome. 

This must be one of the Emperor's tests, to see what he would do if restored to health. _Yes, that's it._ He felt better, this was probably just a simulation. 

He wouldn't fall for it. He was loyal. He was useful. Vader would serve no matter what.

"The robe was given to me to give to you, it is yours. And this is not a test, Force child."

"That's exactly what a test would say." He had been tricked like this too many times in the early days.

"I thought he was a _droid_." The Alderaanian trooper said softly, suddenly. He was staring at the ground.

Commander Dura hit the idiot on the back of his helmet, "Lord Vader isn't a droid." He said, sounding confused and amazed himself. 

"I'd heard that one, too." Said the foolish troop.

So the droid rumour was still going around. Better than the one saying he was a death god trapped within a suit of armour and bound to the Emperor's will. 

Blast it, he needed to focus! Thoughts this muddled would only get him killed! He'd fail the test!

Dura's comm beeped. It had been over an hour, the scout teams would be back at the rendezvous point. They had been gone too long, they needed to return, but what would Vader tell the Emperor? What if this wasn't a test? What if it was? The more his head cleared, the more he doubted it was a test. Didn't have the tell tales signs of a simulation, too clear for a hallucination. A new kind of test?

Vader doubted he could walk back to the ship anyway. The only reason he hadn't yet fallen was he hadn't yet moved.

He drew on the Force to strengthen his legs, to his surprise it was easy, only needing the smallest amount. 

He was stronger. _Much_ stronger. Was that a good thing?

He took his first steps, stumbled only once, the robe flowing gracefully around him. He was slightly off balance, he needed a new arm.

His movement seem to startle the troopers, save the sceptical one, who was still evaluating his changing world view on the ground. 

His stride was steadier as he walked, and this seemed to delight Fysa, who had been watching him, and her face bloomed more stars as she laughed and clapped her robed hands together.

"Yes! I have set you on your path, removed what binds you to your Master, but your redemption must be by your own hand. Your strength and will are yours again. Use them wisely, and you will be free." She swung her arms up, gesturing to the confused and frightened Stormtroopers, "Perhaps your friends can help you."

The troopers looked at Fysa sharply at the implication Lord Vader was their _friend_.

Vader had completed two laps of one of the small flower circles, well away from the empty prison of his suit, "They are not my _friends_ , they are my _subordinates_." He said in his quiet voice, which was less raspy now.

"Which is the closest thing you have to a friend right now. You will need allies for this trial. Forgiveness is not the same as redemption, redemption is not so simple, that must come through your own actions." 

That was both depressing and true, which made him angry through the cloud of confusion and endorphins brought on by suddenly regaining limbs. _Good_ , he could use anger. It made him strong.

Vader could feel now how much the troopers wanted to leave, their confusion, the doubt any of this was even real, fear at what would happen if it was. The sceptical trooper was a void of chaotic emotions indicating what was probably a nervous breakdown. 

"Sir? We really need to get back to the ship. Probably should get you checked out by medical. And a psych eval for Jonson." He said, looking to the sceptical trooper. _Ah, Jonson was his name_. "Or maybe all of us." _And make sure he really was Darth Vader_. Vader knew their doubt, their feelings were radiating, practically smothering him.

"That sounds like a good idea." Agreed the Alderaanian softly, nodding his head. The fool nodded too, faster.

"I don't need medical, I'm _fine_. Better than I've been in _years_." Vader said as sternly as he could without his vocoder and gestured sharply with his left hand. He really didn't want to go to medical, not wanting to risk his Master insisting he be put back in the suit. For his own good, of course.

The Alderaanian, who had obviously heard the stories of Vader choking people who annoyed him with the Force (and now very much believed them), flinched slightly at the sharp movement. 

"Sir, yes, sir. I'm still having myself and Jonson checked out, if it's all the same, sir." Dura said, snapping to attention. The man was taking this surprisingly well. He had served with him before, hadn't he?

"Yes, Commander, do as you will."

"Yes, you must leave now, and remember, only you can bring Balance and when you do, you will be free to walk the skies once more, a free man." She drifted over his suit on the ground, and vanished. 

Walk the skies... and obvious play on his former name, that would go over the head of anyone who didn't know him. Vader gritted his teeth, but said nothing. He knew better than to even try at this point. 

"Okay. That was weird. Can we leave now, sirs? I'll grab Jonson."

"You do that, Antilles. Lord Vader, should we take your... suit thing?"

How many Antilles from Alderaan _where_ there? What was an Alderaanian doing still in the Empire, anyway? Thought they'd all left.

"No, Commander, leave it to rot."

"Yes, Sir." He had gathered his weapon while Antilles pried Jonson's head from his hands, "Where did Sais get to?" He asked himself.

Sais, the fool, had wandered over to his suit, where Fysa had vanished. He was looking at the the suit intently. Vader looked too, what did he see?

It had... overgrown. Broken and cracked, it had rotted and broken down with grass, moss and flowers growing from the body, the limbs half buried and large flowers blooming from the face of the helmet. It was dirty and looked as though it had always been there, part of the garden. His lightsaber was mostly buried and covered in grass. _Damn_ , Vader thought to himself, _he'd need a new one._

"We," said Sais, "have _not_ been here that long."

"We should leave now." Said Vader. _Before the Force gets any stranger._

"Yes, sir. I want to go home and panic a bit." Dura sounded on the edge of hysterics again.

"I'm _never_ accepting a special mission again." Muttered Sais as he walked over to Antilles and Jonson.

They walked back to the ship, slower than they arrived, the troopers exhausted by their first true exposure to the power of the Force, and Vader slower on his brand new legs with no shoes. 

They had a long journey ahead, the unfortunate troops lives forever changed, as the Force tended to do, and Vader set the task of 'redeeming himself'. Which, if he was right, meant betraying the Emperor. He wasn't sure he could do that. Wasn't sure he wanted to.

Vader imagined he would have quite the breakdown once safely inside his meditation chamber.

A long and dangerous path had been made, and Vader asked himself: who was it more important to obey, the Force and its will, or his Master? He didn't know any more. 

Perhaps things would be clear tomorrow, if any of this was real.

"Nothing will ever be the same again." Said Jonson, speaking for the first time since Vader's change. 

He was right.


	2. Day's End

The walk back to the ship was, largely, uneventful. A welcome change from the absurdity of the, most likely an elaborate hallucination, day. At least Vader's head felt clearer, his body adjusting to the new level of oxygen and lack of constant pain.

Dura took point, eager to be as far away from here as he could. Antilles was dragging Jonson by the arm along behind them, while Sais stared, what he thought was discreetly, through his helmet at the restored form of Darth Vader.

" _Why_ are you staring at me?" Vader inquired, dangerously calm. He did not appreciate the idiot gawking at him like he was a hairless Wookie. He didn't look _that_ odd, did he?

Sais looked away, fumbling for an answer that wouldn't end with his death. "I just- just, well, that is... I,"

"Don't waste my time, trooper. _Out with it._ " At least it seemed he still frightened people. That could be very helpful. 

"I just never really pictured you with hair, sir!" Sais nearly tripped over a fallen branch, trying to both walk and watch Vader closely.

_Unbelievable_. How did such a half-wit become an Imperial Stormtrooper? The Empire hadn't cut back training quality _that_ much, had they?

Although he _was_ right. The hair was a bit of a shock, so long had he been hairless and scarred. It was long, too. Almost reaching his shoulders, brown and rather tangled. It tickled his ears and face. He would have to brush it. And wash it.

He could shower with real water. Maybe this wasn't so bad. Maybe.

"And your face... Did you know you have a rather large scar on your eye?" Sais gestured vaguely to his own face under his helmet. 

Vader held back an exasperated sigh with all his strength, " _Yes_ , trooper, I know. That scar is quite old." Although he hadn't known he still had it. Another thing Fysa could not heal, apparently. What did his face look like, now? Was it the same? Older? Or a new face with old scars? 

"Right. Okay. Uh, sir." Sais turned back to the front to again watch Vader 'discreetly'. 

He looked openly at Vaser again a few minutes later, "Sir? If I may ask, what exactly did, uh, _Fysa_ , mean when she said you, um, 'Turned for love' or something?"

Vader had expected this question, and many more, to come. He had decided before he would simply answer, briefly and vaguely, to prevent anyone from prying. Or worse, speculating. "I joined the Emperor in the Dark side because I was lead to believe it would save my wife from her death." He made sure not to mention his child.

"Oh, I didn't really expect you to answer... That's-"

"Hey, Sais. Maybe don't push your luck?" Dura called back from the front.

Dura was definitely the most tolerable Stormtrooper he had ever met, thought Vader.

"Uh, right. Yeah." Sais, on the other hand, was one of the most irritating.

They finally came to the end of the trees. They walked in the open for a few minutes and then they were at the rendezvous point, and the ship. Where there were the four remaining troops who had no idea what had happened. 

At least life was never boring. 

The other Stormtroopers were waiting by the ship, obviously neither team had found anything. Not a surprise. Their body language was relaxed, almost bored. 

"There you are! We were about to search for you. Where's Darth Vader? I wanna leave, this place gives me the _willies_. I've been jumpy since we landed." The Stormtrooper looked up from where he'd been fiddling with his blaster and saw Vader, "Who's that, then?" He shifted, gripping his weapon, just in case. The other troopers copied him, on guard at the appearance of a stranger in a fancy robe and disheveled appearance.

"Captain." Said Dura, "I don't know how to tell you this, and I swear I'm not making this up, but _that_ is Darth Vader." _Not_ the most diplomatic of declarations.

They stood in silence for what seemed an age. Vader didn't move, he didn't know how the other troopers would react. He couldn't clearly feel their emotions, the air was clouded with Jonson's confusion and fear, Sais's nerves, and anxiety and determination from Antilles. The three drowned out the others in the Force with their proximity alone, their emotions simply made it like murk.

Two of the other troopers near the ship looked at each other. As one, all four bust into laughter. They laughed for over a minute. Vader tried not to be offended, then gave up entirely and a dark cloud formed in the sky of his robe. It went largely unnoticed.

"Oh, geez!" The Captain chuckled again, "And they told me you had no sense of humor, sir."

"Heh, shows what they know, eh?" Said a troop.

"Captain, I _assure_ you I am not joking." Dura's voice was calm, low and commanding. 

"Hey?" The Captain took notice of Dura's tone, "What, you're serious? _Seriously?_ " The Captain looked to Vader, robed, one armed, barefooted and with leaves in his hair. "Have you gone soft in the head or something? Is he a _Rebel_ or something? He done something to you? Or have you gone traitor, Dura?" He raised his blaster, pointed directly at Dura. The other three aimed their blasters, one right at Vader himself.   
"I _knew_ there was something off about this moon! Where's Lord Vader? Are you with the Rebellion?"

Dura, Antilles and Sias raised their blasters in return. This was getting out of hand. _Stormtroopers_ , always so quick to act without thinking.

Vader stepped forward, "I am right here, Captain."

The blasters were trained on him now, "Yeah, right, mate. And I'm the Emperor. You stay right where you are."

"He _is_ Darth Vader!" Sais declared, "He's out his suit! It was the _Force_ , Captain, there was this glowy sky woman-"

"The Force is a load of gundark dung made to scare us, Sais! Magic ain't real! What's _wrong_ with you?" The second trooper said.

Jonson answered for him, " _Magic is real!_ " He practically wailed, despair on his face, arms in the air.

"Um, ok, better question: what's wrong with _him?_ " The third trooper sounded as though he was concerned it was contagious. 

"The complete dismantling of his entire worldview." Vader took another step forward, "Because, yes, magic is real." Sort of, anyway.

"One more step, mate, and I'll shoot!" The Captain warned, sounding angry, "I mean it! You're insane, the lotta you!"

Another step, "Captain, you _will_ listen-"

The last trooper, a rookie who had been on edge since blasters were pulled, suddenly let off a shot right at Vader. The sound of a discharged blaster rang through the clear air of the moon.

The bolt went straight for Vader, but he brought his arm, thankfully the left, up and his hand deflected it with the Force, slightly singeing the skin of his palm. He ignored it. He waved his hand to knock the blasters aside before another shot could go off. The blasters shot out of the hands of the Stormtroopers, crashing hard and fast into the ground, leaving a small crater and shattering on impact. The debris, luckily, didn't hit anyone. The hole smoked.

He hadn't meant to do that. He was truly _much_ more powerful than before. This could be an issue.

Everyone stared. The second trooper whispered roughly, " _Sorcery_..."

"The _Force_." Corrected Sais, almost excitedly.

"I knew it was real!" The third trooper sounded wistful, maybe even a little frightened. 

"Great Mothers... You _are_ Darth Vader, aren't you?" The Captain sounded both awed and regretful. "Oh, boy..."

"I- I- I just shot at _Darth Vader_ , didn't I? Oh dear, oh no-" the last trooper sounded like he was about to run away. Or end up like Jonson.

"Yes, you did." Vader said furiously in his quiet voice, his robe covered in dark storm clouds. He wanted to choke him, only a panicked fool shot so recklessly like that, but he didn't want to kill him, he was only a trooper. If he tried to Force choke anyone right now he'd probably decapitate them by accident. That would make a mess, and disturb the purity of the Force on the moon.

"I- I'm so, so _sorry_ , my Lord, it's just, without the mask, and I had always heard you were a reanimated skeleton underneath, I-"

"Trooper, shut up."

"Yes, my Lord. Right away, my Lord."

"I think," Dura interjected a little too calmly, "We should all just go back to the Fleet. Intact, preferably."

******************

The shuttle ride was, in his opinion, one of the worse ones Vader had endured. The third trooper, whose name was Simp or Silp or something, was an irritatingly curious man with little to no self-preservation instincts. As such, he would not stop asking Vader questions every few minutes, either about the Force, which got no answer, or about himself, which got contemplations of homicide and a glare. So much for meditation. 

"So... have you always had Force powers? Like, were you _born_ that way?"

"Did no one ever tell you discussion of the Force is forbidden under Imperial law?" Vader said in his most dangerous voice. Clearly people would need a reminder of who he was, this one had obviously forgotten without the mask. He was worse than Sais. 

"Oh! Well, yes. I just, well, my uncle met a Jedi once, a long time ago. He told me about how they moves stuff and ran really fast and had a lazer sword-"

" _Lightsaber_."

"Lightsaber, and I just kinda always wanted to know about the Force stuff... Sorry, um, Lord Vader. I'll shut up now." His voice trailed off quietly. 

"That would be in your best interest." Force hear him, he was never taking rookies on missions for _'experience'_ again. They were young, undisciplined, reckless and _irritating_. 

The trooper swallowed, and sat very still for the rest of the trip.

 

******************

They were back on the Star Destroyer _Executor_ , except Jonson, who was escorted to medical immediately for stress and impaired judgment, waiting in the shuttle bay for an officer to arrive as requested. Explaining the situation would not be as simple this time around. This would have to be taken directly to the Emperor to confirm he was indeed Darth Vader. He would not admit that made him nervous. He was a _Sith_ , he had control of his emotions.   
The officer was here. Bridge Officer Mosst, Vaser thought. A boot-licker to the highest degree. 

"Yes, gentlemen? Why have you called me down from the Bridge? Who's that, a prisoner? Why isn't he restrained?" Mosst's voice was high, nasal and unpleasant. It suited him well.

Dura cleared his throat and removed his helmet, revealing dark, graying hair and steel coloured stubble and dark brown eyes. "Well, you see, sir, this man here..." He searched for words, "Is Darth Vader." He said at last, waving his hand towards Vader.

"Commander, I am a busy man with an important job in the Navy. I don't have time for your Stormtrooper games. _Who_ is this man?"

Vader met Mosst's eyes with a cold, intense look. Mosst looked away, a look of discomfort evident on his face. 

"I assure you, Mosst, I am most definitely who they say I am. I _strongly_ suggest you recommend the Admiral contact Imperial Palace at once." He said, as much like his other voice as he could, with the barest hint possible of Force pressure on Mosst's throat, just for a second. 

Mosst choked and his eyes bugged out, but his neck remained intact. That brief meditation had helped his control tremendously. 

Clutching his throat, Mosst croaked out, "Right away, sir." 

"Well, that was terrifying. I'm going to medical to have my head examined and get a sleeping pill." Said Dura, "This day has been too long. Time for it to end."

Vader couldn't agree more.

******************

Unfortunately, it did not end there for him. He was escorted to one of the briefing rooms on the higher decks about half an hour later, a large one with a long-range transmitter, to be presented to the Emperor. The leaves had been removed from his hair.

He wasn't nervous, not at all. He was a Sith.

He stood, confused officers around him, in front of the view screen, waiting for the Emperor to complete the connection. 

The screen flicked on, the Emperor's hooded visage filled the screen. 

"Darth Vader." Bastard didn't even have the decency to sound surprised, "You're looking well." 

"So this man _is_ Darth Vader, my Lord?" Asked an officer incredulously. 

Not doubt the whole ship would know by the end of the week. Sooner, even, with the Stormtroopers who witnessed it aboard.

"Oh, yes. No mistaking that Force signature." Or his face, probably. Not that he had had a chance to see his reflection yet. "This is _quite_ the development. Clean up. Get him proper clothes. Vader, I expect to see you at Imperial Center as soon as convenient." He cut the connection. Whispers broke out behind them, Vader ignored them.

'Convenient' meaning _right away_ , of course. 

New clothes, but not a new arm. His Master was not happy with him. This, no matter the reality of the rest of the situation, was definitely a test. To see if he would turn up, or desert and be hunted down. A simple test, one he had passed many times before.

He would be at Imperial Center as soon as the fastest ship allowed. No magic Force being quest would change that.

******************

Freshly clothed, in spare Navy fatigues (all they could find for someone of his height) with one arm tied short, he stood in his quarters and tried not to move. He had not yet showered, although his hair was neater and tied back, and the clothes rough, cheap material was scratching his skin which had touched nothing but the lining of his suit through layers of scar tissue for twenty years.

In short, it hurt. A different hurt from the suit, less stinging and aching, more _itching_. It was _maddening_. 

He needed to meditate. Before he left, he needed spend some hours listening with renewed strength to the Force and let it fill him with strength, let it tell him if this was real. 

He kind of doubted anyone could fake the sensation currently crawling across his skin, though.

He tried to sit in his meditation chamber, but that press the pants material to his regrown legs, which was awful. 

He gave up and found the sky robe where he had left it getting changed and put it back on. Just for now. Just while he meditated. 

He slipped easily into a meditative trance, quickly losing track of time. There was no time here in the Force. He need only to listen and breathe now.

He listened, and the Force told him _real. This is happening. Everything has changed._

He snapped from his trance with a crack like a mental bone breaking. He wasn't breathing smoothly anymore. Breath caught in his throat, his chest felt tight, heart pounding. Every implication, every consequence of this change he had been steadfastly ignoring crashed into him, both the good and the very, _very_ bad.

His change was real, Fysa, an agent of the Force itself, was real. His impossible task was _real_. 

Those Stormtroopers and officers seeing his _face_ was real. He didn't know why that bothered him. Maybe because he hadn't even seen it yet. He had no mirror in his quarters. It felt different, though. Less soft.

He realized he had yet to breathe again, and gasped. 

The Force surrounded him, and he used his panic, his fear to center himself in the Dark side, crushing the panic attack before it could truly even start. He had no time to panic now.

This was real, including instructions from the Force to betray his Master. Would Sidious sense it? How should he do it? _Could_ he do it? He had obeyed the Master he hated for so long...

His chest tightened again at the thought of betraying the Emperor, what would happen if he failed... What would happen if he _succeeded_. But he of all people knew the consequences of ignoring the Force. The Force was his guide, first and foremost. Before even his Master, his loyalty was to the Force.

What could he even do? Join the _Rebels?_ Ha. Perhaps, just maybe, he could convince his son, Luke, to join him. Together, they would be strong enough to defeat Palpatine. They could restore Balance, as Fysa said, _together_. Rule _together_.

But first, he must still meet with his Master at the Imperial Palace. He was still one arm down and without a lightsaber.

For the first time since he pledged himself to Sidious, he truly did not know what to do. How would he get Luke to listen to him? Or avoid detection from his Master?

He breathed deeply, he would never tire of that, and climbed from his chamber. He located the abandoned clothes and began the Force assisted task of dressing one handed. 

He would take this task one step at a time. He would not consider abandoning the Empire. Not yet, at least. He would trust in the Force.

He left his quarters and headed for the flight bay with his personal shuttle, the fastest one there. He modified it himself, it would get him to Imperial Center in a matter of hours. Along the way he got many looks of confusion or indifference, one or two of utter terror, usually from groups. The news was spreading, _wonderful_.

He tried to ignore the feeling of unease at people seeing his face brought, after all it wasn't the burned, scarred monstrosity it had been, why should people seeing it bother him?

What _did_ bother him, he would admit, was the chafing of his scratchy clothes. More so the way the unworn boots would pinch the skin of his feet, which had barely learned how to process information through unused nerves.

He reached the hanger and headed straight for his shuttle. Before he could enter it one of the bay staff stopped him, "Excuse me! That's Darth Vader's shuttle, you can't-" Vader _looked_ at them, "Or, you know, you can do what you want..." They said quitely. Their easy surrender was _shameful_. 

Vader turned from them in disgust and boarded his shuttle, flying one handed was more difficult, but nothing he hadn't done before. 

He did the pre-flight checks, he signaled for the bay to clear and flight shields to lower, then fired the engines and took a calming breath as he entered the black void of open space. 

It was time to go meet his Master, face to face, for the first time in decades.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, the meeting with Palps. Something will be lost, something will be gained.


	3. The Palace

It felt good to fly again. It hadn't been that long since he had last flown, really, but it had been the first in a long time he had actually _appreciated_ the sheer act of flying. Before he had been freed from the suit, he had always been too angry, too in pain and too trapped in a helmet to enjoy it. Flying had become a duty, a means to an end, not a passion. Now, he felt... lighter, somehow. It was getting easier to focus without a shell around his head and his own breathing in his ears all the time.

That didn't help with the fact that he had to sit in the pilot's chair in the rough trousers of the Navy fatigues, though. That, he did _not_ appreciate. 

He looked back to the other end of the small cockpit where he had left the small pack he had taken with the sky robe from Fysa within. He packed it thinking surely his Master would want to see it, but maybe he could wear it for the trip...?

No. No, compromise breeds weakness. Sith had no need for _comfort_ , he would endure. It was _hardly_ the worst he had experienced. Even Jedi tunics were hardly comfortable, not to mention his old slave garbs.

Vader shifted, they really were awful pants. People wore these regularly? _Surely we don't pay them enough for this_ , Vader thought.

When he leaned back the shirt pressed against his back in the same, itchy way. He sighed. This would take some getting used to. 

He set the nav computer to Imperial Center and activated the hyperdrive, getting up. Standing would be more comfortable. 

Vader watched hyperspace streak by. He had forgotten how... _blue_ it was.

His stomach panged. His hand flew to it instantly, what was that?! Was he sick, had he been poisoned? By who? When? He _knew_ there was something off about that Antilles-

His stomach rumbled. Oh. Vader had forgot, he wasn't being fed nutrients automatically anymore. He was just hungry. 

Hungry and in the middle of deepspace. Nothing was ever simple.

Maybe there were some emergency rations? Vader usually didn't bother removing them from his personal transports. He checked under the pilot's chair and, yes, the emergency pack was there.

Inside he found, under a flare, an inflatable vest, some rope, and some bacta patches, some bagged water and dry food rations that looked exactly the same as the ones he remembered from the Clone Wars. He decided not to look at the production date.

Vader opened the seal on a ration bar, sniffed it, decided it smelled like a ration bar, and took a bite. 

It... wasn't too bad, he thought. Granted, he had possibly forgotten what food tasted like, but this was mostly high carb grain and protein filler. Not much flavor. 

He ate one and was reaching for another when he felt a sharp pain in his stomach and nausea. He retched and ran down the short hall, _so_ glad he hadn't removed the shuttles small 'fresher for space.

Slamming the door control panel, he reached the 'freshers waste unit just in time for his stomach to violently reject the idea of solid food after two decades on a liquid diet. Of course, how stupid of him, he would have to adjust slowly to proper food. He knew that, days of starvation in enemy capture had taught him that.

Instead he would just drink the water for now. He would try drinking some milk or a weak broth after his meeting with Emperor Palpatine. Why hadn't Fysa just healed _everything?_ Useless _'all-powerful'_ beings, how was he supposed to 'bring Balance' if he couldn't even _eat_.

He found the water bag back in the cockpit and opened the seal, sipping it slowly. Only six hours to Imperial Center if he maintained this speed. Thankfully the main Fleet had remained close to the Inner Rim since the Death Star.

Finishing half the bag and resealing the rest, he stood behind the pilot's chair. Some standing meditation would fill the time, and help him gather himself for what was undoubtedly going to be an unpleasant meeting. 

Vader planted his feet shoulder width apart and went to clasp his hands behind his back, but his left hand found nothing. Ah, his missing arm. How _irritating_. He could get a new one at the Palace. Until then he would just keep his arms down by his side.

He let his irritation at missing a limb and the unease and discomfort of being off balance fill the cockpit, the Force and the air turning thick with the Dark. He had... _drifted_ , since his change. Towards the Light, no doubt due to Fysa's influence. He needed to seat himself firmly in the Dark if he were to ever be powerful enough to overcome Sidious. 

It was both easier, the Force responding eagerly to the increased power in his body, and harder. He no longer had the constant pain of the suit as a focus point, so he settled on his anger at the Rebels for eluding him.

Vader closed his eyes and breathed, tasting the growing Dark in the air. 

He _would_ bring Balance, a Galaxy united under _his_ rule. No Palpatine, no Rebels. Peace and safety for all that submitted, a new, _better_ Empire with him as its ruler.

Just as he had planned on Mustafar, before _Kenobi_ and the suit destroyed both him and his plans.

******************

Palpatine did not approve of Vader killing the Palace staff. Said it meant he had to train new servants, and that good help was hard to find. 

Vader was about to give his Master another reason to be angry at him, if this servant didn't let him in.

"Apologies, sir, but as I said, His Grace the Emperor is not accepting visitors at this time." Wywoode, a thin, sick looking man and personal servant to Emperor Palpatine, said as he blocked Vader's way into Palpatine's personal wing of the Palace. "He has a prior engagement."

"I _am_ the prior engagement! Tell him Darth Vader has arrived." This man was testing his patience, Force help him if he was late due to this _servant_...

"I do not _see_ Lord Vader here, _sir_." 

Vader breathed in sharply through his nose, gathering the Force behind him about to wipe this insufferable stain from the face of the planet, when a second, younger looking servant came running down the hall. He skidded to a stop and bowed, panting. He straightened and whispered something in Wywoode's ear, who then paled and stiffened. 

"I see... well, _Lord Vader_ , right this way." The Wywoode stepped aside and waved a hand towards the throne room.

 _About time_ , Vader thought. He followed the stiff and nervous servant to the grand doors of the throne room where the servant opened the doors and stepped inside, bowing as Vader passed him.

Vader walked until he was in front of, but a respectful distance from, Emperor Palpatine on his throne and kneeled.

"Ah, Lord Vader. Wywoode, leave us." Palpatine said with a small wave of his hand, and the servant bowed again a left, closing the doors.

"Tell me, my Apprentice, about this _miraculous_ transformation." His Master did not sound pleased.

"My Master," Vader said, still kneeling, "This change occurred on the Garden Moon of the Bysimir System." 

"A Force Well, Vader?"

"Indeed, my Lord, I... thought perhaps the Force sensitive Skywalker may have made his way there. Surely you have heard the calls, Master?"

"I have. The Force Wells have not been this active since the last days of the Republic." The Emperor sounded light, casual. Vader knew he was in trouble.

"There I was changed by a being of the Force. She called herself 'Fysa', she had great power. My suit and lightsaber were destroyed." He hesitated, he decided _not_ to mention the task he had been given. "I... I did not know what I would find there. This was unplanned. At least, unplanned by me."

"Of that I am _sure_ , my Apprentice." The Emperor said in that subtlety mocking tone he used to use on upstart young politicians. Vader tried his best not to feel small, he had lost much of his mass without the armor, "I can't help but notice, you are still short one arm."

"Yes, Master. Fysa stated it was not her wound to heal."

"And the others were?" Palpatine sounded interested. It was not a happy sound.

"Apparently so. She said she had 'returned what had been unjustly taken'."

The Emperor made a noise of acknowledgement, "And how did _you_ win the favor of a Force being to be so _generously_ rewarded?"

"I do not think this is meant to be a reward, Master."

"Oh? Then what, did the Force get _bored?_ Is this entertainment for the cosmos?"

"I am unsure, Master."

Palpatine huffed a small, dignified laugh like Vader's uncertainty in life was an amusing dinnertime joke. "What news of the Rebels?"

"None so far, my Lord. No teams or probes have found anything of notice."

"Hmm. What have you brought with you? I feel an object of great power."

Vader rose, reached into his pack and stepped forward with his head bowed to hand the sky robe to Palpatine. "This appeared on me after the change. Fysa said it belongs to me." He said as he stepped back and kneeled again.

Palpatine took the folded robe. "Most interesting. This has been woven through with the Force. A most precious item." The Dark side gathered in his hands, and purple energy crackled as the robe burned and crumpled to ash at the base of the throne. "But infused with the Light. It will make you weak."

Vader watched the ash pile onto the ground. "Yes, my Master." He felt only passing annoyance at the blatant destruction of a Force artifact.

"I shall meditate on this development. Go to medical and get fitted with a new arm and some proper clothes, you look ridiculous. And might I _suggest_ you look in a mirror." 

"Yes, Master." Vader remained kneeling as Palpatine left the throne room. Once alone, he made to get up. He stopped when his eye caught the ash pile, something in it had shined. He kneeled at the small pile, and ran his hand through the ash. His fingers met something small and hard, like stone, he picked it up and the Force sang. He blew gently on the stone, and the ash flew off in a cloud.

There in his hand, sat two small crystals. Lightsaber crystals. They were bright despite the ash still coating them. One was familiar red, the other was bright, clear blue.

 _Gifts from the Force._

He put them in his pack and got up to head, reluctantly, to medical. He left the rest of the ash for a servant to clean.

He would not mention this to Palpatine. 

******************

Darth Sidious's mediation chamber was not like Darth Vader's. Where Vader's was a pod-like technological chamber designed primarily for life support, Sidious's was more traditionally Sith. A small, uncomfortable mat surrounded by ancient runes in the old language of the Sith. The room was small, hidden and well protected. It wasn't even on the Palace plans.

Terrible things had happened in this room, and the Dark was caught by the runes, amplified and cycled back into the room, choking the air with memories of evils done. A haven for Darksiders, it would bring anyone not acclimated to the vast Dark side of the Force to sickness. Unfortunate for his personal servant, Wywoode Ewe, who had to clean the chamber after _extensive use_.

He would need a new servant, soon. Wywoode would soon expire.

Sidious knelt on the mat, drawing on the Dark, letting it fester and make him _stronger_. He dove into the Darkness, _demanding_ it show him the knowledge he needed. But for the first time since he killed his own Master, it did not obey. The Dark side was clouded, the Force was in motion, his foresight was useless here. But he sensed _something_. Things were changing, changing like _Vader_. Vader was so much stronger now, it was doubtful Vader himself knew how much.

 _It seems my Apprentice is attempting to carry on the Sith tradition,_ Sidious thought, _but how did he convince a Force being to heal him?  
And how can I? What is Vader planning?_

"My Lord, you sent for me." 

Sidious opened his eyes to see one of his Hands, a specifically a specialist trained in stealth, was here. "Aaltir. I have an ongoing assignment for you."

 

******************

Vader hated medical facilities. He spent a lot of time in them over his life, between missions, war and _breathtaking_ long-term medical issues. Even when he was a child, receiving his vaccinations for the first time at the Jedi temple, he had hated the ward. Not very _Jedi_ of him.

It occurred to him that this could be the same ward, reused from when the Palace was the Jedi Temple. 

He came from his wandering thoughts when the doctor, a Near-Human and one of the only non-full-humans working in the Palace, asked him what he needed.

In response he lifted the stump of his right arm, raising an eyebrow. _It's nice to have facial expressions again._

"Fair enough. A droid can fit you-"

"No. Not a droid." Medical droids still made him uncomfortable, even after all these years after his initial surgery. 

The doctor raised her own eyebrow, but didn't ask, "Suit yourself. I'll get a nurse to do it."

She called a nurse, a young, bright eyed man who looked far too happy to have worked in the Palace long. Must be new.

"Eli, fit this gentleman with a prosthetic right arm, above the elbow."

"Right away, Doctor Mariel. Please follow me, sir." He said chipperly.

Vader was asked to remove his shirt, which before the suit wouldn't have bothered him. He tried to ignore how much weight he had lost. 

His arm was measured, the bone scanned for width, his left elbow scanned for reference and his measurements taken to a medical construction droid to be fabricated. 

"You know you can get synthetic skin these days." The nurse said conversationally while prepping his arm for the minor surgery that would attach the new arm, "Even skin with patterns. Maybe some nice racing stripes, heh." He chuckled. 

"No need. Synthetic skin is unnecessary." Vader said, serious as ever. There was no point pretending to be whole at this stage.

"They say it helps the mind cope with the shock of integrating a prosthetic limb. Although this looks pretty old," he gestured to the end of his arm, "What happened? You lose your last cybernetic?"

"Something like that."

"Not much of a talker, are you?" The nurse said, walking back from the droid with his arm. It was a shiny, silver, bare metal arm.

"Not these days." A local anesthetic meant he couldn't feel a thing as the arm was attached to his nervous system. 

Minutes passed as Eli installed and calibrated the new cybernetic. "There. That should do it. Take it easy on the arm, keep the attachment point clean and wrapped until it heals completely," he said, wrapping the point where flesh and metal met, "Come back if there's any problems or undue discomfort. I take it you know the physical exercises for integration?"

"Yes."

"Okie dokie, then. Anything else I can do for you?"

Vader got some nutritional supplements to take while his stomach adjusted, and left the medical ward. On the way out he caught sight of his reflection in some glass and startled, unused to seeing an actual human face in the mirror. He recalled his Master's earlier, off hand words about a mirror and looked closer. 

It was Anakin Skywalker's face. Older, thinner, pale and tired. But it was his old face. It was odd, like looking at an altered holo of himself from years ago. And even in the poor reflection of the glass, he could see it. His eyes were their old, clear blue. Not a hint of corrupted yellow.

 

******************

Vader put the revelation of his eyes out of his mind for now. _Probably just more influence from Fysa, anyway._ It was getting late, he was tiring and he still needed new clothes. He should have slept in his shuttle.

The walk to the quarters he used when staying at the Palace had him feeling more on balance. The new arm was made of a lighter material than his first one, which used to weigh his right side down. He had never slept in the quarters, but there was a life support chamber he could take his helmet off in. He opened the door and knew Wywoode had been there. 

He knew why, too. On a chair he hardly used was a neat black lump of cloth. New clothes. For a brief moment, he was almost impressed. He knew the Palace staff worked fast, but he had only been here a few hours. 

Examining the clothes, he saw they were all black, practically identical to his suit in design, without the chestbox and less armor. Apparently Palpatine didn't want to change a classic look. There was also a plain, dark pair of sleep clothes. Could be useful later.

He dressed, being careful of his new and still clumsy arm. A perfect fit, with a glove to cover his prosthetic and a long, billowing cloak. He left the heavy boots off for now. It was much more comfortable than the fatigues, and he felt more like Darth Vader than he had since the Garden Moon.

What he needed now was a new lightsaber, a shower and some rest. It had been two days since he slept and without the suit to pump stimulants he was tiring fast. He may have to sleep before making a new lightsaber. If he even _could_ sleep without the feel of a weapon in his hand.

He still had the crystals from the ash. The red one would make a powerful new lightsaber. He would keep the blue close, only a fool would throw away a gift from the Force, even if it was traditionally associated with _Jedi._

This room had everything he needed to make a functional lightsaber, he could upgrade it to increase performance at a later date.

He took the crystals from his pack and put them on the unused desk. He found the materials he would need, a casing, a grip, a power cell. The smaller parts and wires, and the crystal cradle. His new arm wouldn't help here, but lightsaber building involved very little use of physical arms. 

Holding the red crystal flat in his left hand he used the Force to arrange the materials around him. He sat cross legged on the ground and breathed, focusing on the crystal, the Force and the design of the lightsaber in his mind. The Force pulsed, he felt the metal and wires moving, threading together, the crystal lifted from his hand and after a time he couldn't measure, he opened his eyes.

In his hand, a basic lightsaber. Nothing fancy, but it would do for now.

Vader activated it, the snap-hiss loud, clear and satisfying. He moved it, examining the long, red blade. It hummed through the air. The make was basic, but the crystal was strong.

He would have to relearn most of the more acrobatic lightsaber katas, building muscle and training his new limbs. With the experience he had now, once done he would be a better duelist than ever before. 

But first, a shower and rest. He could sleep in the meditation chamber, it would seal and protect him while he slept, although it would not be comfortable. He would live with it. 

******************

The shower was _amazing_. Vader had forgotten how good warm water felt running over grimy skin and tired muscles, even if he had to wrap the attachment point of his arm in protective plastic. 

The water was lukewarm just on this side of warm, all his still sensitive skin could take right now. Washing his hair was an experience, and he found one more small leaf he missed earlier. Had Palpatine seen that?

He had no hair brush, but all the Palace 'freshers had automatic drying, so he ran fingers through now dry, clean hair. 

Looking in the 'fresher mirror, he saw he looked more different than he first thought. His hair was darker, due to lack of light no doubt. He looked away from his eyes. His skin was paler than he'd ever seen before, he used to be so tan, being from a desert planet. He was thin, his ribs clearly showing through his skin. He looked tired. And older, late thirties at least. Older than he had been, but still so young compared to most of the senior Imperial officers. 

That thought made him scowl, which made him look older. Good.

There was something on his skin. He looked closer, on his face and body were faint lines and blotches, so faint they might not be there, were his scars. Where the worst of the burns had been and in lines spanning the circumference of where his limbs had been severed, he was still marked. It didn't feel like scar tissue, more like birthmarks. 

It didn't matter. All the harder for someone to recognize him as the _Hero With No Fear_. 'No Fear', how ignorant they had all been.

After a meal of a small glass of milk, Wywoode must have stocked the rooms small refrigeration unit, and some nutrient supplements as it was all his stomach would take, he donned the sleep clothes. Lightsaber in hand, clean and in better health than in decades, he settled into the seat of the meditation chamber and sealed it from the inside.

He would work on integrating his prosthetic further in the morning. For now, he needed sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter will probably be at least in part about the Stormtroops, and possibly the Rebels.


	4. Interlude: Troopers and Rebels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have noticed, I play loose with canon. Also I am mostly just familiar with the films and cartoons, so for any inaccuracies with the new canon I apologise.

Darrh Jonson _hated_ the shipboard medical bays, but right now he hated his father more. 

His _father_ had gotten him into this mess in the first place!

He had only joined the Stormtrooper Corps because his father had threatened to cut him off from the family trust fund if he didn't go 'build some _character_ and _discipline_ ', and his father refused to let him pay his way through the ranks. So here he was, a _Stormtrooper_. 

Just because his _father_ had volunteered in the Clone Wars, _he_ had to leave Imperial Center and get yelled at by Mid-Rim hicks who joined the army because they weren't educated enough for anything else.

Then, and this was the worst part, Jonson had to get assigned a _special mission_ , working right alongside Darth Vader himself! Vader with his _'hocus pocus, I'm a scary wizard of the Force'_ nonsense. He had never believed in all that. His father had, said he saw Jedi do _'amazing things'_ in the war. But his mother had always told him not to listen to his father's tales, that what you saw with your own eyes was all that was worth believing. 

Then he had seen with his own eyes a man get pulled out of a solid object that was supposed to be keeping him alive by an impossible being made of the sky itself. 

Now he thought he should have been more open minded as a child, as the force of his rapidly broadened mental horizons landed him in this thrice-damned medical bay for _stress_ and a _nervous breakdown_ of all things. Jonson hoped this didn't get back to the lads back on Imperial Center, he'd never live it down.

As he lay there, with the artificial calm of the partially sedated and with nothing to do except stare at the ceiling, he thought about the stories his father used to tell him about Jedi powers. 

Moving things without touching them, great feats of speed and strength, mind tricks, _healing_. 

_When I get out of this,_ he thought, _I'll go back home and tell Dad he was right. Amazing things, indeed._

Jonson's thoughts drifted to all the impossible things he dismissed over the years, hoping his father's secret library with texts on the Force hadn't been discovered yet.

******************

Jonson wasn't the only of the troopers reflecting on his family after the enlightening day. 

Over the other side of the ship, lying on his small bunk in the Stormtrooper barracks and attempting to digest his newfound knowledge of the universe, was Kim Sais.

Sais had joined the 'Trooper Corps with his brother, Sol. They joined mostly for the travel, coming from a small farming world that had a lot of grain crops, and that's about it. The Empire had promised _'exotic worlds across the galaxy!'_ How could they resist? 

So when the recruitment ships came rolling through, they had packed their bags and kissed Ma goodbye. Off to basic training with smiles on their faces and heads full of grand ideas.

Truthfully, Sol had been always the brains of the family. Kim got the good looks, for all the good that did him wearing a bucket all the time these days. 

Showing 'a surprising amount of promise', Sol had been offered a promotion before him. He hadn't wanted to leave Kim behind but Kim had _insisted_ he should take the job. Get ahead in the world, a chance to be someone important, just like Ma had alway wanted for them. Kim had been so proud of his brother, he still had the letter he'd been writing to his Ma about the promotion, sitting unsent with its optimistic words.

The promotion, unfortunately, included being stationed far away from Kim. On the _Death Star_.

Sol had died on the Death Star, killed by Rebels, and Sais could only hope what he had seen earlier that day meant the Force was real and, apparently, very forgiving. He needed to believe that his brother was safe and happy within the Force, or whatever happened when they died. If it could forgive Lord Vader, it could forgive them, right? Sais _knew_ what they did wasn't right, that the Empire was... less than ideal. He and Sol had figured out pretty quick that the propaganda was a load of steaming dung, and Stormtroopers were mostly used as thugs and cannon fodder, but following orders you knew were wrong beat being executed for treason or desertion. 

Kim would never admit it, but he did feel less guilty about fighting Rebels now that they had killed his brother, even if he was partially to blame himself. His Ma would slap him silly if he told her that, lecturing him about the _value of all life_ , like when he was a kid and she caught him burning ants with a magnifying glass out back. His chest ached as remembered those simple days. The Empire a distant, if constant, presence far away from their small planet. The three of them together, nothing to worry about except crops and whether the girls in the small town near them liked him and Sol.

Sais didn't understand the Force or how it worked, but he hoped it could hear him as he thought of Sol, hoped it could feel the love he felt for his brother, how _sorry_ he was for sending Sol to his death, how _sorry_ he was for the villages he had helped burn down _'in the name of peace, and the Emperor.'_

He didn't know if the Jedi or whoever _prayed_ to the Force, but his Ma had told him when he was young and asking about his home planet's Harvest Gods that a prayer cost nothing and could bring great peace of mind. So he lay on his bunk, and he prayed to both the Force and the Harvest Gods to keep his brother, and his Ma, safe and happy where ever they were.

They should just have stayed home, helped Ma with the farm. She could use the help, she always pushed her old bones too far. They left because they were bored. A boring life sounded like a blessing right now. A quiet, boring life filled with boring fields of grain plants and his brother, alive and whole. 

Maybe the Force grants wishes? Ma said the Harvest Gods did, if they liked you.

If he got home, he was gonna pray at the Harvest Shrine every day. With a few thoughts for the Force, as well. 

Sais eventually fell asleep to thoughts of a swaying fields ready to harvest, his Ma humming as she fixed broken farm equipment, and his brothers easy smile. 

******************

While Sais slept dreaming of better times, Commander Bo Dura resisted the urge to get rip-roaringly drunk. 

The stubborn medical droid wouldn't give him a damn sleeping pill, saying they were for _emergencies only_. It was a mid strength _sleeping pill_ , not a full tank of bacta, for crying out loud! It wasn't like the Empire was short on supplies. 

So instead he found his way to an illegal shipboard bar serving contraband alcohol that tasted like it had gone through the engines first. It was against _so many_ regulations but damn near every ship with a population exceeding 150 had at least one. They rarely got shut down unless performance dropped or someone too high up found out, although Bo would swear up and down he had once seen the Admiral drinking in this very bar.

It was an open secret and it was easier than paying an actual morale officer, Bo guessed. 

People usually didn't bother other people in these places, drinking quietly and in small groups, but this time Bo was _interesting_. There was gossip, rumors flying in every direction. Word had got out almost immediately about Vader, and that Bo Dura had been there. 

Speculation was rampant, and it was twisting Bo's head in knots that the wildly untrue rumors made more sense than the truth. Mostly different theories about clones or secret brothers or long lost children.

Don't get him wrong, he had always believed in the Force, in a vague kind of way. He was old enough to remember the Clone Wars, and the Jedi. He just hadn't known it could do... that. Or that there were people made of the Force. Or... whatever that was. 

He took a long gulp, finishing his drink and signaled for another to the bartender. He'd have to stop soon, he'd probably be getting interrogated more officially tomorrow, having a hangover would do him no favours.

"Hey, _Dura-Steel!_ " A data jock, who'd had a few too many and would probably pay for it in the morning, said as he plunked down next to him. Bo hated that nickname, earned through the unfortunate combination of his name, prematurely graying hair and a no-nonsense attitude.   
"Heard you were in thick of it when Vader made the switch. Is it true it's the same bloke, minus the- the, what ya call it- the suit thing?" The man was slurring his words so bad Bo was glad he'd passed his Advanced Linguistics class at the Academy.   
"'Cause Re'et says it's a different guy, made to look like the same Vader all fresh and shiny again, to take his place." The man was leaning far too close for a man with breath that strong.

"I don't know about Re'et, but I was _there_ , and I'm saying it's the same man." Bo said plainly, leaning back. Bo had been giving similar answers to similar questions all night. Much longer and he was switching to 'no comment'.

"Yeah, so you saw the face of Vader, huh?" The drunk took a gulp of his drink, "What's he like, then?"

That was an obvious question that, surprisingly, no one had asked him yet. No one really wanted to know what _Darth Vader_ was like as a person.

It surprised Bo. He took a moment, thought about Vader _himself_ , rather than the absurdity of what had happened to him. 

He thought about what the woman... _thing_ , Fysa, had said, about Turning. He knew what that meant, probably the only trooper there who did. His sister had taken him to a film once, when was young, before the war. It had been a dramatic, dumbed down retelling of an ancient Jedi tale. Something about a great warrior of the Light who tragically Fell and Turned to the Dark side of the Force when his old Jedi Master was killed by an evil monster.

Not the best education, but he at least knew the meaning of the term. 

He thought about what Vader had said to Sais, about Turning to save his wife. It could have been a lie. The Jedi in the film had Turned from bloodlust, a desire for revenge. But Fysa said Vader had Turned for love. Bo doubted she would lie about that.

_Turning_ to the Dark also implied Vader had, at one stage, been on the side of the Light. He'd heard a rumor once that Darth Vader had been a Jedi who left the Order when they were revealed as traitors. That sounded pretty likely, now. Or at least something similar. 

Then he thought about Vader, the man, what he'd looked like, been like. He had been... surprisingly young. Bo hadn't really thought about it, but he assumed Darth Vader would have been older, like the high ranking Imperial officers usually were, or the Emperor. Maybe Fysa... _de-aged_ him somehow when healing him, but Vader was closer to his own age, really. If he had really been a Jedi, he would have certainly fought in the Clone Wars. 

There was something vaguely familiar about his face. Maybe Bo saw him on the Holonet once or twice.

Vader had been quiet, too. Soft-spoken, which was a change from his usual, deep commanding voice.

And yet, somehow the thin, pale, quiet man in a flowy robe covered in _moving clouds_ and a _slowly rising sun_ , with only one arm had still, on some level, scared him. Maybe that was a Dark side thing? It sounded like a Dark side thing.

He didn't remember if the film had covered that.

It was confusing, the two images he had of Vader now. On one hand: tall, dark and terrifying killing machine who can fill a room with the cold burn of his anger. The other: a thin, pale man clearly as confused as the rest of them, apparently capable of _love_ enough to sacrifice his way of life for. 

He still hadn't answered the drunk man, but when he turned to do so he saw the man had finally passed out on the bar. In a puddle of his own drool, he was oblivious to the world around him.

_Lucky sod_.

******************

Dune Antilles wasn't sleeping either, and doing something _far_ more illegal than a little unauthorized drinking and gossip. 

As far as his official file in the Imperial Registry was concerned, his name was _Lanya_ Antilles. He was from Naboo and a true patriot. He had no immediate family. 

In truth, he _hated_ the Empire, so much it was like a fire burning in his chest. And he had family. Including a wife and young child. Except, not anymore. They had lived on _Alderaan_ , where he was actually from. Lucky for him once Alderaan was destroyed that 'Antilles' was a fairly common name on other planets, too. All the known Alderaanian troopers had 'decided to retire' suddenly and all at once, after the Death Star.

A Stormtrooper wasn't the most useful position for a spy, but all troops start somewhere, he would become more useful the more he rose through the ranks. And besides, the low rank troops often had great dirt. And it was a _great_ place for a _saboteur_. 

And for quickly passing on information about the unusual but important things that sometimes happened in the field. 

Like what had happened today, for instance. The latest intel had pointed towards Darth Vader most likely being a very advanced, specially made droid. _Apparently not_.

He believed in the Force, and was glad of it now. His cousin had been a Jedi, and although he never met him, he remembered his aunt bragging about it when he was small. Back when that was something to be proud of. It was one of the reasons he joined the Rebels.

He had stopped believing after Alderaan, sure there was no higher power in a world where such atrocities could happen. Now he guessed it just didn't care about _entire planets_ as much as one evil man.

Antilles was immensely glad he had managed to install the micro camera on his helmet at last. It could only take low quality, two dimensional pictures, but it was _proof_ , and who knows? Maybe one of the other Rebels would recognize Vader's unmasked face.

Dressed as a data jock with his cap pulled low over his face, Antilles connected the portable jammer he used to hide the signal he was sending on the sensors and the terminals history. He sent the pictures and a short report on what happened with his Rebel ident codes, then disconnected and slipped away. 

The hardest part about being a Rebel spy in the Empire wasn't the actual spying. That was easy so long as you avoided questions from high-ups, the Empire dominated with sheer numbers, not with things like _quality_ or _brains_. The hardest part was seeing first hand that most of the Imps, usually the grunts, were actually decent people, with their own families. Even if they were working for a _monster_. 

_May the Force, if it's listening, be with us all,_ he thought. _We'll need it._

 

******************

Hours earlier, far from both the Fleet and the Garden Moon, Luke Skywalker dropped his wrench and gasped.

He'd been working on his X-Wing, trying to distract himself from the nagging feeling he'd had for _days_. It was like a song stuck in his head, or being really hungry. He thought about it every few minutes and it _would not go away_. It made him want to fly straight to... somewhere. If he focused on it he could smell flowers, feel warm sun.

"All right, there, Luke?" Dak, his gunner, asked when Luke nearly smashed his head into the X-Wings hull trying to pick up the wrench.

"Yeah, Dak, I'm fine. Just distracted, is all." Luke said with a smile he didn't really feel. The feeling had surged, then a feeling like the one he felt on the Death Star, only nicer, or maybe _cleaner_ , had flared and faded away. 

He guessed this is what Ben meant by a _disturbance in the Force_. At least it didn't feel like another planet had blown. And the nagging feeling was gone, too. Hopefully that was a good thing.

Couldn't tell Dak _that_ , though. He thought the Force was a bigger joke than Han did. Although he was usually more polite about it.

"You been _just distracted_ for days now, buddy. Better get your head out of the clouds, Skywalker. We're headed to Hoth next, might freeze to the ground if you stand around daydreaming. Pass me the wire stripper." 

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Luke said, passing the tool. "Just got a feeling something's gonna happen soon, Dak." 

"Luke, buddy, we're _Rebels_ fighting the _Empire_ , something's _always_ gonna happen soon. But it won't be anything we can't handle, right?"

His smile was more genuine now, "Right." Luke said with a nod of his head.

Luke didn't know how to explain it, but he knew things were changing. He didn't know what, but it felt like something important had happened. 

But he felt Dak was right. They'd be okay in the end. 

 

******************

In another Force Well, a much less pleasant one, a small but powerful being had been thinking when the feeling of _change_ rang through the Galaxy. 

In that moment every being with even a mild connection with the Force could feel the change, like the wind carrying the scent of distant flowers before passing them by. The air was clear and sweet for less than a second before returning to the warm, humid air and constant noise of life that was a normal day in Dagobah's endless swamps.

Master Yoda did not open his eyes when he felt his late friend's presence appear in front of him where he had been meditating on a giant root. 

"Master Yoda, have you felt it?" The blue, glowing image of Obi-Wan Kenobi asked.

Yoda hummed thoughtfully, "Felt it, I did. Believe it, I almost did not. Unexpected, this is." His high voice was gravely, serious, holding none of his frequent warmth or good humor. 

"'Unexpected' is a simple word for it. The Force has not interfered this directly since the dawn of the Jedi Order. Incidents like this have long since faded into myth and legend, I haven't believed in such miracles since before I was a Padawan." 

"A miracle, your own existence could be said to be. Within the Force, you are, but not joined with it. See, can you, why this change has happened?" Yoda asked, opening his eyes at last.

"No, Master. But I have seen the results. Could there be a chance? Anakin could be-"

"Once Dark you are, Dark you always shall be. Know this, you do, Obi-Wan. Dead, Anakin Skywalker is."

"Then we must continue as planned." Obi-Wan said, sounding disappointed. He sighed despite not breathing, "It will be harder to keep the truth from young Luke now."

"Believe what they want to, people do. Thinks his father died a good man, Luke does. When right the time is, send him to me, for training, you will."

Obi-Wan's transparent form bowed and faded away, "Yes, Master Yoda." His voice echoed from where he had stood.

The boy _must_ kill Vader. Yoda did not presume to know what the Force had planned, but he did know what Anakin Skywalker had let himself become. He was beyond help. If the boy would not kill his father for the sake of the Galaxy at large, perhaps his sister would.

 

******************

It took hours for a report to reach the Rebel Alliance from so deep in the Empire, a few hours more to decrypt the level of code used in deep cover reports.

The Alliance High Command had been assembled to discuss this particular report, both due to the subject matter, _Darth Vader_ , and the events it detailed.

"I propose we release this information to the wider Rebellion. The knowledge that Darth Vader is just a man could boost morale and encourage recruitment."

"The information that Vader is a mere man, yet still as dangerous as he is could be devastating to morale! Not to mention the ethical questions raised by humanizing a prominent Imperial figure long thought to be a killing _machine_. Keep the information within High Command."

"The report clearly says word has already spread on Vader's own Star Destroyer! This will reach the general public and thus the Rebellion in no time. Release the report, at least in part, and we control what our soldiers hear before this turns into a game of Corellian Whispers."

"We're still not sure this is even true! This is _impossible_ and, no offence to anyone, the Force isn't proven fact, at least not to this extent! This borders on _magic_. It might not be Vader!"

"We _have_ a Jedi! Perhaps we should ask Commander Skywalker about these 'Force Wells' and 'Fysa'."

This argument had been going for awhile now, Leia watching the debate run in circles, but mention of Luke finally made Leia speak up, "I feel that is a bad idea, General. Luke's training had just begun when it was unfortunately cut short. Luke is a great asset to us, but he probably wouldn't know much more than us at this stage." Luke had been teaching himself what he could, but that was mostly limited to lightsaber techniques and party tricks. "I however agree we should release the report. We are not the Empire, we shouldn't hide non-critical information from our people."

"I agree, Princess Organa." Mon Mothma, who had also been watching the back and forth of the argument, said. "We must watch ourselves, gentlebeings. It would all too easy to slip into the same bad habits of the enemy we all face."

Mon Mothma stood and looked at the beings gathered, "We have other spies. Even one within the Imperial Palace. We should wait for another report supporting this one. If this information is correct, it shouldn't take long. If we receive another with this information, we release the report." She looked around, "Agreed?"

The majority accepted the compromise, and the meeting was adjourned. As the other leaders left to return to their other duties, Leia remained at the large table, staring at the grainy picture of Darth Vader's face.

This was the man who had tortured her. Who had helped destroy her planet, her people. Had killed Obi-Wan Kenobi before he could give Luke the training he desperately needed. 

The evils Vader had committed were endless, yet now she saw him, and she could only see a confused man who looked _so familiar_ , it was like seeing something she once knew so well, but had completely forgotten over time.

It made her angry, that the monster under that suit could look so _human_ , so _normal_ , even with a large scar on his face, right over his eye.

Her stomach twisted with her anger, at Vader, at the Force, _why help someone who doesn't deserve it?_

And where had she seen his face before? His eyes, though pixilated, were so-

"He looks familiar, doesn't he?"

Leia carefully concealed her surprise, she had been so focused on Vader's face, she hadn't realized Mon Mothma was still in the room. "Yes." She admitted, "Although I don't know how, Darth Vader has been stomping around in his armor since I was born."

"He looks familiar to me, too. Like an acquaintance I had once, but he is long dead."

"Oh?"

"Yes, he was a Jedi. Said to have died at the Temple. Your father once told me he was Vader's first victim."

At the mention of Jedi, Leia realized why his eyes were familiar. Luke. They looked like Luke's eyes. Maybe because they were both strong in the Force? She had heard once the Force could affect the colour of its users eyes. That must be it.

Mon Mothma sighed heavily, "Sometimes I fear there is more going on in this Galaxy and this war than we could ever understand."

Leia could practically feel the truth of that statement. 

"Mon, sometimes I think we might go mad if we tried."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should be back on track with Vader next chapter. ESB will probably happen earlier here than in canon, since the full three years might be a bit much to write.


	5. Subtle Influences

When Vader woke, he had a stiff back and a kink in his neck. Despite this, he felt better than he had in years. He had slept a full night, more than he had since the suit, with no constant noise of his own breathing to disturb him. It was late in the morning, he had even slept in.

Once confirming that it had not just been a _very_ strange dream, the first thing he did was to look over his new prosthetic arm. The connection itched where the nerves were healing, but that was easily ignored now that his head was clear.

It was more advanced than his last one, to no surprise. From technology moving forward with time passing to the fact that it would be harder this time for Palpatine to stop him from modifying it. He must have thought it best to just give him a decent one to begin with. 

What was a little surprising, mostly that he hadn't noticed it yesterday, was the black, textured rubber strategically placed on the palm and fingers. It would aid in gripping objects without hampering movement. Very clever. He was momentarily annoyed he hadn't thought of something like that for his first one. It would have been a huge help in lightsaber combat.

That was two standard planetary weeks ago. He had wanted to leave for Bast castle. Vader _hated_ staying in the Palace, but his Master has _insisted_ he stay close, in case something else unusual happened. It was for his own good, he had claimed. _Of course._

Since then, he had tinkered with the arm, now that it was healed with a little help from the Force, so much he may have well have built it from scratch. That was to say nothing for his lightsaber, which he was working on perfecting to a work of _art._

He had also slowly increased his food intake, now eating small meals of light vegetables or fruit and dry, flat bread. And the nutritional supplements, of course.

Soon he would be able to eat rich, salty foods. Like meats, tuber roots, thick bread with lots of gravy. He couldn't wait to eat something roasted, something with _flavour_. He had dreamed of such meals for twenty years, unable to eat _anything._

But before that, he needed to start building muscle again. He had lost so much to the suit, the loss of mobility eating away hard-earned strength and flexibility. 

For two weeks he had spent most of his time in his quarters, working, relearning his own strength in the Force, or sleeping in the sealed life-chamber. He had stripped out the seat and most of the unnecessary machinery, adding a large, flat mat and soft blankets, courtesy of Wywoode. An indulgent comfort, yes, but it stopped him getting so stiff he couldn't move. If he couldn't move he couldn't fight, so it was better this way, really.

Two weeks were spent becoming accustomed to his restored body, now it was time to _improve_ it.

First step, armour. Nothing so heavy or cumbersome as his old armour, but something light that would let him move while deflecting both blasters and lightsabers. A lightsaber was both weapon and shield, but it pays to be prepared. An arm guard, perhaps? 

Dressed in the toned down version of his old suit he had found on his first night here, he headed to the Palace armoury. It was well equipped with what he needed, supplying to both the Palace guards and the Emperor's Hands.

Vader walked, long cloak billowing around him like a wall of shadow and a determined, vaguely irritated look on his face. He steps were long, sure and his arms swung at his sides. The walk of a man who wanted something. It made people, few though they were, practically leap out of his way. 

The armoury clerk was all too happy to help him, blustering about and pointing out where they stored the lightsaber-resistant armour. Vader, of course, already knew. The clerks helpfulness should have been a mild annoyance, easily ignored. Instead the man's presence grated on Vader's nerves like a constant swarm of biting insects. 

His irritability had increased over the two weeks, the calm he had regained with his health washing away. Which also made him angry. That brief feeling of calmness, although counter to his Master's teachings, had been like a drink of water after so long in the blazing sun. Refreshing, like he could never get enough.

It was like a worm of dark emotions had made a home in his brain. Something he _should_ be thankful for, a new spring of rage to tap into for power.

But in the end, Vader missed not having a headache for once. Missed not being angry. Anger, after all, was _exhausting._

He pulled out his lightsaber, scaring the clerk witless, and slashed at the armour the clerk had been recommending. It held. It was scorched, but intact. Of course it did. The armor here was of the finest quality, not cheap and weak like that of a common Stormtrooper, made to protect rather than intimidate. It would do.

In the end he chose an arm guard made of the same material as his old helmet. As was most of the lightsaber-resistant equipment. Shiny and black, it completely covered his left arm and shoulder. He moved his arm, testing the mobility. It was good, much better than his old suit. His right arm had no armour, his main lightsaber hand needed to be as light and quick as possible. It didn't really matter as much if his right arm was damaged, anyway. 

His left arm would serve as a shield, while still leaving a hand free for Force use in combat.

Vader also got fitted for some light armoured shin guards. Resistant to blaster fire but not lightsabers. Shielding his legs in fight was important, but heavy armour would weigh him down. They fit nicely over his boots, and would protect his knees.

There. He was armoured. 

Now that he was less vulnerable in a fight, it was time to teach himself how be _graceful_ again.

No more clunky armour or bare minimum movement. He could expand into the more complex lightsaber forms and katas. He had continued to study them after Mustafar, a combination of knowing his enemy and a secret desire for them not to be forgotten. 

With years more experience and patience than in his Padawan years, he would be far greater than ever before. He would even be greater than his Master. 

_But first, lunch._ He thought with a sigh, as his stomach gave a slight pang of hunger. _Was regular self-care this tedious last time?_

He was out of nutritional supplements, he would need to pick up more from Nurse Eli.

******************

Vader went, feeling more secure with the armour, to the Emperor's personal wing of the Palace. Eli worked in the medbay within the wing, which was unfortunate, but Vader knew Eli could be trusted for now. To handle dietary supplements, at least. He was good natured, Eli would not tamper with them.

When Vader reached the medbay, Eli was there. He was pinching the bridge of his nose with a grimace. 

"Something wrong, Nurse Eli?" Vader said, with more sarcasm than concern. 

"Oh!" Eli turned to face him with a tight smile and pale face. "Oh no, sir. Just... just a headache, is all."

So the nurse was succumbing to Sidious's poisonous presence already. That was quick. Hopefully he would simply become ill like most do, rather than become a twisted shadow of his former self. Those unlucky ones usually disappeared after being summoned to Sidious's hidden meditation chamber. Vader didn't know what happened to them, nor did he want to.

Eli blinked to try and clear his head, "You need more supplements, my Lord?" He walked over to a storage unit, not bothering to wait for an answer. "Got them right here." He handed Vader the small bottle of pills. "How's the stomach? No more pain when you eat light meals?"

Vader shook his head, cracking open the bottle and popping two of the colourful pills in his mouth. At least they were quicker than whole meals.

"No? Good. I'd say you increase meal sizes gradually for another week before you try eating something rich or heavy. You should be good for eating standard shipboard food, though. Any discomfort and come and talk to Doctor Mariel or another available medical professional."

Vader nodded absently, heading for the door. He had work to do. 

******************

In the Palace training gym, which was used more as an arena by the Hands, was wide, empty and private. Perfect for lightsaber training. 

Vader knelt in the middle of the gym, lightsaber in hand and cloak removed. He had been meditating for fifteen minutes, contemplating all the moves he hadn't had the chance to use in twenty years. He focused on his new lightsaber. It was slightly longer and thinner than his last one, built for finesse rather than brute force. It wasn't fancy, a simple but ruthlessly efficient design. 

Breathing in, he stood. 

Vader gripped his finely crafted lightsaber in right hand, arms out. Breathing out, he brought his arms close in front of him. 

He activated his lightsaber. It _sung._ The blade was bright red, the crystal he received from the ashes was _flawless_. The hum was low, and it moved smoothly through the air. This was perhaps the finest blade he had ever made.

Breathing again, he began to move. A simple Shii-cho exercise, a warm up. It was one of the first Kenobi had taught him as a Padawan. Once he proved he was smart enough not to look down the end of a lightsaber.

Moving slowly, he breathed steadily. This kata was easy, especially at half speed as he was doing. He found he only had trouble when he had to raise his arms above his head. The suit wouldn't let him, and he hadn't done so in so long. The muscles in his arms had grown weaker there.

Testing his strength, Vader raised his arms and held. His arms quickly grew tired, but he only put them down once they began to shake. He would work on that.

After twenty minutes of warming up, gradually increasing in speed, he began a more advanced kata. A Djem So kata, one he had performed in battle many times in the Jedi Purge. It was fast, and he went through ten levels of Djem So before stopping to catch his breath. Panting heavily, _it was so good to breath,_ he began simple battle meditation technique for warm down.

Once he had gained strength, he would move on to forms like Ataru and Makashi.

He would not make the same mistake he had with the food on the shuttle. He would pace himself, and be stronger for it. He would be strong enough, finally, to rule. To protect those that were his. And he had someone to protect, after so long of drifting. His son, Luke. Vader could train Luke and they would rule together, bring true peace to the Galaxy. Not how the Emperor ruled, Palpatine had no interest in true peace, only power. Or the anarchy and flawed system the Rebel Alliance preached. 

Vader would be so strong _no one_ opposed him, with his faithful son at his side. And with no one to oppose him, there would be no war. Only peace. 

******************

Warmed down and sweaty, Vader sat in the gym meditating properly. He had been meditating a lot lately, careful not to touch the Force too much. He was still adjusting to his new level of power, and usually broke anything he tried to lift. Currently he was trying to feel that soothing calm that had come with Fysa's presence. It was Light, he knew, but even the Light side had its uses. Why limit himself to one side? It was all the Force, after all. It just depended how one used it. 

The Light felt oddly addictive, now that he'd had a taste after so long on the Dark. Ironically similar to how the Dark had felt when he had limited himself to the Light. 

Surely a mix of the two would be the most powerful? Was that not Balanced? He had been told in no uncertain terms that Balance was his mission. This was for the best.

As long as Sidious didn't find out.

Which meant he should stop what he was doing, stop treading the Light. He felt the eyes upon him, although he could feel nothing in the Force. A prickle at the back of his neck. Oh, he knew Sidious was having him watched. It's exactly what he would have done himself. It had taken a few days to work out who was watching him, though. The Hand called Aaltir. A stupid boy with delusions of grandeur, but a gift for stealth. 

Not good enough for an old soldier's instincts, though. He could hide himself in the Force, but the weight of his eyes betrayed him. Not to mention Vader had helped train him himself.

It mattered little. The boy was not there constantly, and Vader had no plans to betray his Master. Yet.

Vader knew he should, at least according to Fysa. But the longer he went without the calm, the more his head ached, the less he cared. He knew he was slipping back into the apathy and rage that had held him before, but he didn't really care about that either. The rage was useful, would focus his power.

It would be better for him to stay by his Master's side. Then overthrow him when the time was right. He would bring Balance _his way._

It's not like he owed the Force anything. It had abandoned him when he needed it most, allowed his love to die. Healing his body now did nothing to fix _that._

His thoughts drifted to Padme, to the secret kisses stolen long ago. For the briefest moment, he was happy. Padme's laugh ringing through his head. In that moment he touched the Light, and it tingled through his body like a caress. A moment passed and the tingle turned to a sharp pain before he had even really felt it, the Light was wrenched away from him like a tooth being pulled. Padme's smiling face suddenly twisted in agony in his mind's eye. The green grass and beautiful lakes transformed into rock, lava and ash. Laughter become choking gasps as he remembered the feel of the Force around her throat. He remembered her death, her _betrayal._ He _slammed_ back into the Dark shrouding the Palace with a force that left him breathless. His mind remembered all the wrongs of his life without his control.

_That_ was why he remained in Darkness. Even if he _could_ return to the Light, it would only be ripped away from him _again._ Light could be extinguished, but Dark was forever, even if temporarily illuminated. 

Freshly reminded in why he stood by his Master, what he had _lost,_ he felt his eyes burn bright as he grabbed his cloak and stormed off to his quarters. Better to meditate there, anyway. He could seal himself away and focus on his anger and pain in private. It was foolish to touch the Light were Aaltir could feel it. Could report it to his Master. 

******************

Sidious smiled. It was a horrific sight for any who saw it, but luckily he was alone in his throne room. Except for Wywoode, who was so far gone by this stage he didn't really count. The man was little more than a droid after so long in close proximity to the Sith Lord. Just as easily reprogrammed as one, too.

It had been years since it was necessary to reinforce Vader's mental state. Sidious had almost forgotten how fun it was to watch the tiny pieces of hope fizzle out.

There was so much to work with, too. The boy had so full of anger and fear even before his interference. Turning it to burning rage and paranoia had almost been too easy. 

Then the truth of the child's survival surfaced. Vader thought he didn't know, that Sidious thought it was merely a rogue Force user. But nothing in Vader's mind was safe from him, for he was Vader's _Master_. He had known longer than Vader himself. He felt the child's Force signature as Vader did without the blindness of denial or assumption. 

Vader's son had unknowingly bloomed hope within his Apprentice. Sidious had let that hope fester, growing brighter so snuffing it would be all the sweeter. And so it would be harder for hope to grow again.

Sidious had _not_ accounted for Vader earning the favour of a higher being. Sidious had never been able to, even in his youth. Not that he had ever needed them to grow more powerful. The spark of hope had flourished, connecting Vader, however weakly, to the Light.

No doubt the Skywalker child had felt that.

It did, however, provided Sidious with some entertainment. Watching the last remnants of Anakin Skywalker try to survive the haven of Darkness he had made his Palace was most amusing. Like a small prey animal trying to escape a claw trap, only to kill itself faster. It was pathetic, really.

Anakin Skywalker's face may once again grace the Galaxy, but Sidious had long ago destroyed his soul.

And should Vader act to betray him, Aaltir would warn him before the damage was irreparable. He might even make an acceptable replacement Apprentice. 

Sidious would give Vader one more week. Let him settle firmly back into the Dark side again. Then he would be returned to duty aboard the _Executor_. The Galaxy needed to meet the new face of Vader.

And there was still a Rebellion to crush. And now, a Force being to find. If Vader had earned its favour, then Sidious could too. He would be young and strong again, all the better to rule. He may have never needed favours from high places before, but there was nothing his Apprentice could have that he could not. He ruled the Galaxy, soon he would rule even the Force itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Vader. He's kinda all over the place. So many people messing with his head, can't a guy have his own thoughts?
> 
> I'm thinking of changing the title. The current one was kinda just a placeholder anyway. Can't think of anything. Anyone got a suggestion?


	6. Changing Future

The week until his return to active duty passed by quickly. Vader spent it eating regular meals while reducing the nutritional supplements, rebuilding his strength and ignoring the headache building behind his eyes. And hiding the blue ash crystal from Palpatine. It was now in his boot, just small enough to fit comfortably and large enough not to risk falling out. How fortunate. 

Though the week went fast, so did his progress. A mix of the Force and pure determination had him back to a passable level of skill with more acrobatic lightsaber maneuvers. Though far from the skill of his Knighthood, it showed just how much _potential_ he had now. Through hard work, he would be greater than _ever_ before. If only that fool Kenobi could see him now, but alas, Kenobi was dead.

The whole week Vader's whole body ached constantly, but he was well used to chronic pain. Besides, this was the pain of growing muscles, a hard day's work. It was a good ache, he welcomed it. The price of his efforts was one he was glad to pay.

All ready Vader began to look better. More filled out, less pale. He had been keeping his sleep schedule strict, now was not the time to risk exhaustion interfering with his work. He hadn't lived this healthy a lifestyle since before the visions of his mother's death. He had long since learned to bury the nightmares. 

His daily routine would make some of the Galaxies best health experts misty in the eyes, or the species equivalent. 

Except, of course, Vader's use of the Dark side. He had carefully avoided use of the Light in the week since his brush with it at the gym. By its very nature, the Dark side was bad for its users. With power comes a cost, after all. It was probably at least partially the cause of his headache, and was _definitely_ the cause of the episodes of irrational anger that sporadically overcame him. Even though he had been avoiding using anger to fuel it. 

Any strong emotion could be used to fuel the Dark, although with some... interesting results in some cases.

Vader had carefully been using only emotions such as determination as the focus point for his connection to the Dark. It was weaker than anger or rage, but that was by design. His vastly strengthened connection to the Force was proving an issue to control. The last time he had used instinctively anger to channel the Force all the ceramics or glass objects around him had shattered violently. He'd been trying to close the door.

Thus, Vader had dedicated any and all spare time to practicing fine control of the Force, learning his own strength. He did not stop long enough to wonder why his power was so much greater.

Now that he was not in danger of accidentally ripping a hole in the hull of a ship, he felt comfortable, or as much as he could, with returning to duty.

And here he was. Vader stood in his usual position on the bridge of the Executor, it was almost comforting in its familiarity. Or it would be, were it not for every single person on the bridge trying to subtly stare or glance at him every few seconds. Their thoughts were so loud, curiosity and confusion condensing like the thick air on a jungle planet. There were some common thoughts and themes, mostly disbelief that he was the same Vader. He had arrived in his own ship, his arrival announced. The story, or a variation of, the incident had long ago spread throughout the Fleet. Yet still the closed mindedness of these people blinded them.

Vader's scowl deepened, and he spared a thought to hope he was right about the hull.

He wasn't as tall as he had been in the suit, and without the mask he lost some of his intimidating mystery, but he had hoped the crew on his ship would have learned _respect_ by now. No such luck, it seemed.

Palpatine, of course, had wanted him to wear the mask, but Vader refused with logical arguments on how it would hinder his sight and breathing. 

Alarmingly, Palpatine had agreed. Vader had expected more of a battle, and _definitely_ had not expected to win. He put the thought out of his mind.

The next time a crewman look over their shoulder, away from their terminal, to glance at him, he looked straight back with his yellow eyes flashing brighter, scowl deepening.

The crewman jumped, squeaked, and turned around. So did every other man on that side of the room, and many on the other. 

Oh, _good_. Maybe Vader could get through the day without murdering anyone on the bridge. Losing crew numbers this early on was bad form.

He stood stiffly with his stance wide and arms behind his back for the rest of the shift. His eyes straight ahead on the main view screen. He only had to glance away to glare at a crewmen a few more times before the fear felt louder than the curiosity. 

When the whistle sounded for the shift change, Vader left same as the other men for mid-meal. He was finally able to eat however much he wished, and shipboard food or not, he was going to take advantage. 

Vader headed for the Officers Mess, a smaller mess hall on a higher level purely for the ranking officials. It was pompous and full of men with strong belief in their own importance, but the food was significantly better quality. And much cleaner. Call him indulgent, but after decades of living on either military rations or intravenous feeding, Vader felt he deserved food that had flavour beyond 'salty' or 'slimy'. 

The mess was well populated, but not crowded. The Admiral was on shift now, and was not present. Vader was glad. Ozzel was an unpleasant man often surrounded by those only interested in improving their own standing. Vader's less than sturdy patience would have surely buckled under the weight of such mindless boot-licking.

As he entered the room the low, idle chatter died down as every man there turned to look at him. The only sound was a quiet curse as the food dropped off someone's fork from where it was frozen near their face. 

Head high and scowl at the ready, Vader marched forth. He could smell the food. Nerfmeat sausages, mashed tubers. Some kind of tangy sauce. No amount of slack-jawed stares was going to stop him now.  
As he passed, two younger officers stood and scuttled out as quietly as they could. One knocked a chair with a loud scrape as they ran.

When he reached the serving station, the cook on duty handed him a fully stocked plate on a tray quickly and politely, but mostly just look bored and tired. A refreshing change to the fearful glances or confused stares.

Not bothering with thanks, he took the plate and sat at an empty table. He would prefer to be completely alone, but to leave now would be to run away. He was Sith, to be nervous around these people was beneath him. To be nervous at all was beneath him. And he wasn't. 

As he took a bite and withheld a cheer at the sensation of flavour and a warm meal, the tension in the room snapped. The other occupants went back to their meals, although conversation did not go passed the occasional request for someone to pass a condiment. 

He finished his meal quickly, for all he wanted to savour it, and left for his quarters. An hour or so of meditation before some lightsaber practice at the on board gymnasium would fill the time before the resting hours. 

Vader wasn't used to having this time free. In the days before the change, this time was spent doing basic maintenance on his suit, flushing out the waste his body produced and refilling the stores of nutrients and medication. It was time consuming, but necessary. 

Instead, as he sat in the repurposed life support chamber in his quarters, he retrieved the blue ash crystal from his boot. While he was sealed away in the chamber Aaltir, whom had followed him on board, could not see nor feel the crystal. 

Vader carefully removed the arm guard and set it aside, holding the crystal in his flesh hand. It was physically still, but buzzed with life in the Force. His fingers tingled with the power.

Merely holding it made him feel closer to the Light. His last attempt of connecting to the Light hadn't gone well, but Vader had never been one to give up, even in this. The Force had given him this crystal, so surely this was the will of the Force? And perhaps the Light would calm him after the irritating day. After all, ripping a hole in the hull was a genuine concern, and would be detrimental to the good of the Empire. 

An hour or so connected to the Light wouldn't weaken him so much. It was for the good of the Empire, after all. 

******************

It was one of the lightest, most restless meditations Vader had experienced since his teenage years at the Temple. He had danced awkwardly around the Light side, never letting the peacefulness consume him. Back and forth he went, never deep enough to truly touch the Light. Like a child at the shore playing chase with the waves, afraid to let it nip at his toes.

Still, he felt better than before. No more peaceful, but no more disturbed. And the headache had faded slightly from behind his eyes. 

With new focus and a clear head, Vader finally took the chance to properly consider his current mission. He was to find and punish an upstart local rebellion on Lutum, a small mud world used for its mineral deposits. The rebellion was small, but the minerals were valuable and may attract Alliance attention, hence its need to be crushed swiftly. 

Honestly, it was below his usual level. An easy mission, a milk run. A test, perhaps? His Master must be doubting either his loyalty or his strength. Maybe both.

Either way, this was his first mission as a new man, so to speak. The Galaxy’s reintroduction to Darth Vader. 

He would need to make a _memorable_ impression. Fear was one of the Sith’s greatest weapons, after all. 

For this, his skills must be sharp. Vader exited the chamber, and left the room.

******************

Darth Vader breathed deep and stood from where he had been kneeling in the ship’s training room. With his stretches and modified battle meditation done and the room empty, he was ready. Even Aaltir was elsewhere, probably deeming Vader’s actions this early on harmless and catching some rest while he could. Foolish, but useful.

While fear was a great weapon, sometimes you just need a good lightsaber. And using a lightsaber meant practice and dedication.

The room was not as big as the one in the Palace, but it did not matter. He had fought entire battles within more confined spaces.

Raising his new, improved lightsaber Vader shifted into an opening stance. He when to ignite it, but as his finger brushed the button, a thought suddenly struck him. He was alone. He had checked, extensively. 

The blue crystal. He could use the blue crystal, traditional of the Jedi, in his lightsaber unobserved. 

Dropping smoothly from his stance, he retrieved the crystal from where he had hidden it in his boot. He held his lightsaber and the crystal in front of him, one in each hand.

If he did this, it would be an acknowledgment of the Jedi. Or at least that’s how Sidious would see it. Vader didn’t know if he would be right or not.

Acting before he could come to his senses, he opened the crystal chamber of his lightsaber. Pulling out the red crystal, he switched it for the blue.

“What am I _doing?_ ” Vader asked himself with a shake of the head as he closed the chamber. 

Retaking his stance, he ignited the blade. It buzzed and fizzled like it was going to short out for a moment, but soon settled into a humming, strong beam. It was bright blue, like the crystal, and felt… lighter, maybe clearer.

It felt right. Familiar. 

This was a bad idea, touching on the memory of Anakin Skywalker was a bad idea. Should his Master ever find out…

But he had gone this far, and neither Vader nor Anakin had ever been a quitter. 

With the Force dancing around him, he began his forms. 

******************

Halfway across the Galaxy, Hoth was stirring. For two weeks, life on Hoth had been chaos for it’s brand new inhabitants. 

The Rebel Alliance was moving in for the long haul, and building a permanent base with minimal funds, utmost secrecy all within an inhospitable environment took _tenacity_ , to say the least. 

But even the usual restless life of a Rebel was calm compared to the mess that was the temporary High Council meeting room that morning, when a confidential report from a deep cover agent within the Imperial Palace arrived. 

According to their spy, the man from the previous report was indeed Vader. Or at the least, being treated as though he was, even by the Emperor. 

He was living in Vader’s previously unused quarters. He was being addressed as Lord Vader. He had private audiences with the Emperor. He had power in the Force. He was no longer in the Palace. This, and a few slightly better quality images of the man, Vader, dressed in a suit similar to the old Vader’s, was all the report contained. 

It was enough to crash the room into pandemonium. Arguments broke out, over who the man was, who to tell, what to do. _Everyone_ had an opinion.

For some it was enough, proof that this was Vader, or close enough. Other’s suspected a trick, albeit a confusing one. The real Vader was _clearly_ somewhere else and this was to divert attention. 

Leia, however, had no idea what to think. She was staring at one of the holos, of the new Vader walking down a corridor. His face was clearly visible, and she couldn't look away. It was odd, looking at this man’s face now. It looked different. The earlier holos had shown a dazed, confused man with familiar blue eyes. This man’s eyes were not familiar blue, but burning yellow. Unnatural on a human, which she was sure he was. His face was not confused, but angry, almost pained. He looked crazed. He was a _monster_ , Leia could see it.

It was easier to think of this man as Vader with a face like that, but it just made it _worse_. He was still so familiar, so alive. Not like that mask, impersonal and menacing. It was conflicting.

She may not have known what she thought, but she did know what she had to do. She had to tell Luke. Vader had killed his friend, his teacher, his link to his father. He _deserved_ to know.

“Mother of Mountains…” Leia whispered to herself, “What mess are we in now?”

******************

Just outside the realm of human perception -Force sensitive or not- two beings watched as the Galaxy changes around them. 

“Hello, Brother.” A gentle, soothing voice says. The speaker is, to mortal eyes, a sunset walking. Or floating, rather. She walks towards the other.

“I’m not your brother. Why are we meeting, Fysa?” The second voice is deep, smooth and directly to the point. It is a good reflection of its owner. His dark robes cover his body, the heavy hood blocks his eyes. In his nimble fingers, he holds red strings. As he talks, he weaves, his fingers never stop. As he weaves, the string never gets and longer, and never runs out.

“Do you not wish to see the progress of our work, Sors? Already we have changed so much.” Fysa sweeps her arms out, gesturing to the Galaxy at large. 

“Has anything interesting happened?” He does not look up from his weaving, despite his eyes being covered.

“By your definition? Not yet. But soon, I assure you.” Fysa says with a laugh.

“How can you be so sure? Change is your speciality last time I checked, not fortune telling.” Sors finally glances up from his weaving, although he does not stop.

“True, but I, like so many others, have kept my eye on this one since he was a child. I like to think I know him by now. He is not one to wait idly by. Great things will happen soon.” Fysa’s voice held a note of surety as she says this.

“So he _is_ the Chosen One, then?” Sors asked, an air of casual disinterest in his voice.

“You tell me.” Fysa responded slyly.

“Hmp. That’s not going to work, I've long since learned I’m happier with my eyes shut to the future.” Bitterness laces his voice.

“Yes, I suppose there’s more surprises that way. But that’s not what I meant,” Fysa shakes her head. “What makes you think you need the _future_ to tell you, Sors? Look to the past, it has all the answers you need.” She urges. 

Sors sighs, “You _truly_ believe this is the One, don’t you? You believe he will bring Balance.”

“He will. So long has one side overshadowed the other, but now there is one that is both, has the _potential_ to be both.” She sounds excited.

“Yes, and the Force will be Balance, I know. Until, of course, the _next_ petty war of the physical world knocks it off Balance _again_.”

“Is that your _professional_ opinion, Sors?” Fysa asks wryly. 

“ _Personal_.” Sors snaps back.

“Then have hope! Trust in the Force!” Fysa sounds almost desperate. 

“Hope? Do you truly believe one broken man can wrench himself away from that parasite?” Asks Sors, still weaving. 

“We have given him the means to succeed, as well as what is already inside himself.” Fysa explains, “He Turned out of desire to help a loved one. He can Turn back for the same. His children live!”

“How can this be so if it is necessary for us to interfere so drastically?”

“We haven’t done so much! A small nudge, a means to make things go smoother. Already he is changing.” 

“This could end in tragedy for him.” Sors says calmly, studying his weaving strings.

“So could _all_ things. You, of all beings, know that.” Fysa says.

“We shall simply have to wait and see, won’t we, Fysa?”

“Yes, we shall, Brother.”

As Sors kept weaving, the sunset of Fysa’s form continued to dip below her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait! Kind of wrote myself into a corner and had to change things up a bit.  
> Not overly happy with this chapter, but things need to happen for other things to happen.


End file.
